It seems like I photograph the same flowers in the garden every year. Maybe one day I’ll have a different garden.
Category: Photos
Fuck Flickr. I’m fed up with having my photos held hostage.
Leading the field in the garden, this guy shows the rest how it is done. Some rather pathetic-looking marigold stalks reply "Well, we’d be doing much better too, were it not for all these bloody slugs."
Feeding The Ducks
Certain parallels could be drawn this weekend. Yesterday we went to a nearby hospital for a guided tour of their maternity unit, and bumped into a couple whom we had been sat next to, and getting on well with, at our last ante-natal class. After the hospital tour, we invited them for a swift coffee, which swiftly became a swift sequence of beers for the dads, which swiftly became a swift curry, which swiftly became a swift agreement to do this again.
Similarly, this morning we took two crusts of bread round to the local duckpond and bumped into the family of mallards whom we had made the acquaintance of a week ago (pictured at the time). We distributed our slices to the ravenous mother, the three resident drakes, the eight chirping offspring, and the huge fish that also lived in the pond. At first the mother was wary, but she soon realised that we meant them no harm, and she allowed her ducklings to come right up to our feet.
It’s an enjoyable enough experience already, even without the presence of a small chirping offspring of our own to share it with.
Other notes
Then, this afternoon I did a spot of gardening, resulting in a rather angry looking rash on the back of my right hand, almost certainly due to a poorly thought-out contact with some [poison ivy][] or [deadly nightshade][] or some such.
[poison ivy]: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Poison_ivy
[deadly nightshade]: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Deadly_nightshade
We’ve also bought a shredder so that we can securely destroy old bank statements and the like. Last time I needed to destroy a batch of bank statements, it involved sneaking home from work at lunchtime and whipping up a quick barbecue. This resulted in light ash embarrassingly fluttering across our neighbours’ gardens – another ill-advised strategy. Karen doesn’t know that I did this. Yet.
Phns Rngng Dde.
The following requires prior knowledge of a certain Coen Brothers film and a certain (asinine) Internet meme. Ah, memes, let me count the ways that I love you.
The lack of continuity is intentional.
This chap was more than willing to stand still for a photo, unlike most of the other inmates at Bristol Wildwalk.
I suspect that this pot is too small, and his roots aren’t deep enough to support his shoots.
I hope that it won’t hamper his reproduction too much.
My workspace
This is where all the magic happens.
The stainless steel corkscrew pictured was my primary corkscrew between about 2001 and 2003 (inclusive). I liked it because it was beautiful, but it did a bad job, because it’s stupid.
The [Waiters Friend][], two of which are pictured, are a superior device because of the hinged appendage which allows you to lever the cork out, thanks to the miracle of Physics.
[waiters friend]: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Corkscrew_%28tool%29
*Beautiful But Stupid* does not have this feature. but that’s not its only flaw, for its beautiful screw is narrow, and much more prone to slippage than the loose coils of the other corkscrews pictured.
In summary, Beautiful. But incredibly stupid.